


string bikinis are for spring break only

by bilexualclarke (ohalaskayoung)



Series: never the same love twice [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face Sitting, Smut, also some linctavia at the beginning, and babies!!!, what more could you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohalaskayoung/pseuds/bilexualclarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Bellarke smut with Clarke riding Bellamy's face </p><p>or</p><p>the one where Clarke is feeling less-than-stellar about her baby weight, and Bellamy thinks that's bullshit</p>
            </blockquote>





	string bikinis are for spring break only

“I am _roasting_ ,” Octavia complains, standing up and stripping out of her light blue sarong. Clarke watches with jealousy as her sister-in-law strides toward the pool in her barely-there red bikini, looking like she stepped straight out of a Sports Illustrated swimsuit shoot. Lincoln wolf whistles from his place on the giant inflatable watermelon raft, and Octavia grins.

 

“Clarke, why don’t you come in with me?”

 

Despite the fact that she is also absolutely roasting, Clarke shakes her head. “I’m fine. I didn’t even bring a bathing suit.”

 

“You didn’t?” Bellamy looks at her curiously as he closes the sliding door, stepping out into the backyard with a freshly-changed Amelia in his arms. He adjusts the floppy hat on top of their six-month-old’s head as he walks toward them. “Why not?”

 

He’s wearing his swim trunks himself, along with a thin grey tank that shows off his muscled arms. Even Amelia is in a suit, a tiny red one piece with black polka dots. She looks like the plumpest, most adorable strawberry.

 

Clarke smiles tightly. “I must have forgot.”

 

She did not forget. In fact, she spent a good ten minutes staring at her trusty bikini earlier that morning. She ended up shoving back into her drawer rather than in her bag and resolved to sweat it out in her tank top and shorts.

 

Bellamy frowns, picking up on her obvious lie but saying nothing. He takes a seat in the lounge chair next to her and bounces Amelia on his knee.

 

Octavia wades into the pool and sighs as the cool water rushes over her heated skin. “Help yourself to one of mine, then. They’re in the top left drawer of my dresser.”

 

“No, Octavia, I’m fine-”

 

“Clarke. You look like you’re about to melt. Go borrow a suit.” Octavia smirks. “Plus, are you really going to sit by and watch while Bellamy takes Amelia for a dip?”

 

She has a point. Amelia loves the water, and watching her splash around is one of the cutest things Clarke has ever seen. She can’t just watch that happen without being an active participant.

 

That is how she finds herself in Octavia’s bathroom, in the most modest of her sister-in-law’s bathing suits, staring at herself in the mirror with a frown. It’s one of the first times in the six months since Amelia’s birth that she’s been entirely alone, not having to worry about what Jacob is doing (playing with Lily in her treehouse) or where Amelia is. It’s nice to have a few seconds to herself, but this moment is also allowing her to focus on something that has been a nagging source of discomfort for the last few months.

 

Her body.

 

Clarke has never had a body like her friends. They were all tall and lean, with narrow hips and smooth stomachs. Clarke was petite and curvy, soft where her friends were toned, thick in her chest and thighs. As Raven so eloquently puts it, she has “a killer rack and an ass to match”. The differences between her and her friends didn’t make Clarke love her body any less, and she always felt sexy in the skin she was in.

 

But she was older now, and her body didn’t bounce back the same way it did after she had Jacob. Her fingers traced the stretch marks on her stomach, ghosting over the little pouch that seemed determined to stay.

 

“This should be illegal,” Clarke grumbles, glaring at her reflection, particularly at her breasts. Octavia is at least three cup sizes smaller than her, and her breasts were spilling out of the suit in a way that was the complete opposite of flattering. And don’t even get her started on her ass.

 

 _String bikinis are for spring break only_ , Clarke thinks bitterly.

 

A low whistle from behind her makes Clarke jump. She turns to see Bellamy leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, looking at her hungrily.

 

“Shut up,” Clarke scoffs, turning back around and crossing her arms over her stomach. Bellamy sidles up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

 

“I didn’t say anything,” he murmurs, “but _goddamn_ , Clarke.”

 

She flushes. “Stop it.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” His hands slide up over her stomach, cupping her breasts before moving back down her body to squeeze her ass. “Do you know how sexy you are?”

 

Bellamy has never done anything but worship her body. He always makes her feel sexy, and while a man’s opinion on her body was never something she needed nor desired, she loved knowing that her husband can look at her while she’s been in the same sweatpants for three days and has baby vomit on her shirt and still slap her ass when she walks out of the room.

 

They’ve definitely had sex since Amelia was born. Not as much as before, obviously, but a fair amount. But it’s mostly been late-night romps, in the dark and in their bed, mostly relishing in the closeness and intimacy rather than for the thrill of it. Half the time her shirt stays on, partly out of laziness and partly because of her own insecurities. Bellamy has never commented on it or forced her to take it off, instead just sliding his hands under the fabric to grope her breasts or caress her back. He has always respected her boundaries and she loves him for it.

 

But despite the fact that they are having sex, she just doesn’t _feel_ sexy anymore.

 

“Bellamy, you don’t have to say that,” Clarke mumbles, slipping out of his grip and back into Octavia’s room. She grabs her shirt off the bed and moves to put it on, but Bellamy catches her arm.

 

“I don’t have to say that?” he asks, his eyes narrowing. “Clarke, what’s going on?”

 

“Nothing. Forget it.” She pulls the tank top on.

 

“No, hold on a second, Clarke.” Bellamy slides his hands down her arms to grip her wrists. “Do you honestly not think you’re sexy?”

 

Clarke doesn’t meet his gaze. “You don’t have to lie to me, Bellamy. I know I don’t look the same as I used to.”

 

She is looking at the floor instead of him, so he sinks to her knees before her and squeezes her hands until she looks at him.

 

“Of course you don’t, Clarke. You had a child. Our child. You literally carried a life inside of you for nine months and then gave birth to the most precious thing in our lives. Your body is allowed to take a little time to bounce back.”

 

His hands slip under her shirt and rub the skin of her stomach.

 

“This? This doesn’t bother me. If anything, this makes you even more sexy because it’s physical proof that you carried my child. But that’s just my opinion, and no one’s opinion of yourself matters more than your own.”

 

Clarke threads her fingers through Bellamy’s hair, her nails running lazily over his scalp. His words send a stripe of heat up her spine, and when he presses a soft kiss to her stomach, her grip on his hair tightens.

 

“Get up here,” she murmurs, pulling lightly. Bellamy dutifully rises to his feet, and she pulls him in for a bruising kiss. His arms wrap around her waist and pull her flush against the hard planes of his chest.

 

When they break apart, he presses a hard kiss to her forehead.

 

“For the record, Clarke? I have never been more attracted to you.”

 

Her stomach flips, and a flash of heat shoots up her spine. After playfully smacking her ass, Bellamy heads back outside, leaving Clarke alone again. She goes back into the bathroom and studies herself in the mirror, this time with a less critical eye, her shoulders back and her head held high.

 

“Oh, what the hell,” she mutters. She flees the bathroom and heads outside, not stopping to throw on a shirt. Bellamy is wading into the pool when she gets outside, and Amelia is reaching for him from Octavia’s arms.

 

“Look at you, Clarke!” Octavia calls, grinning wolfishly. “Get in here, sexy mama.”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes and heads toward the pool. She can feel Bellamy’s eyes on her as she approaches them, and she tries to ignore the thrill is heated gaze gives her. Amelia abruptly changes course once Clarke is in the water, practically throwing herself out of Bellamy’s arms to grab at her mom.

 

“Hey there, little bean,” Clarke coos, scooping Amelia out of Bellamy’s arms and leaning up to give him a quick kiss. “Show me how you like to splash.”

 

Amelia shrieks with delight as she smacks at the water with her chubby little hands. Bellamy cups some water and dribbles it down the back of her neck, making her laugh.

 

“You guys are so disgustingly cute,” Octavia remarks, floating on her back.

 

“Not as cute as us, babe,” Lincoln calls from the watermelon.

 

“Got that right.”

 

Throughout the rest of the day, Clarke can’t shake the excitement of Bellamy’s gaze. She returned the swimsuit to Octavia after they dried off and ate dinner, but she is now seriously considering taking a trip to the mall to check out some of Victoria Secret’s swim collection instead of the usual clearance rack at Target.

 

Jacobs practically begs to spend the night at Octavia and Lincoln’s, and for once Clarke doesn’t protest. She leaves him in Lily’s room, where the two of them are entranced in making various Star Wars action figures beat up Kylo Ren. When she and Bellamy gets home, she breastfeeds Amelia while he whips them up a quick snack, and by the time he is done Amelia is fast asleep, worn out by her big day.

 

Clarke puts her daughter in her crib and tiptoes down the hallway to her bedroom. Bellamy is standing by their bed with his back to her, leisurely changing into his pajamas. She watches hungrily as the muscles in his back ripple as he strips off his shirt, tossing it into the hamper in the corner of the room. When he steps out of his bottoms, revealing his perfectly sculpted ass and leaving him completely naked before her, Clarke clears her throat.

 

“Lie down on the bed.”

 

He glances over his shoulder at her, arching an eyebrow. “What was that?”

 

But he’s already moving, settling in against the pillows by the headboard. His cock is half hard already, and the sight of it makes her mouth water.

 

“You told me that no one’s opinion of myself matters more than my own,” she says, slowly walking towards the bed, swaying her hips as she does so, “and you were right, Bell. To a point.”

 

When she reaches the foot of the bed she slowly pulls her tank top over her head. Her bra follows next, and when by the time her breasts are revealed to Bellamy, he is fully hard and his eyes are nearly black with desire.

 

“Your opinion of me matters a lot, Bellamy,” Clarke says, slowly sliding her shorts down her legs. “You thinking that I’m sexy _makes_ me feel sexy.”

 

Bellamy releases a low groan when he sees that she isn’t wearing panties. Completely bare, Clarke climbs onto the bed on all fours, practically _prowling_ over his body until her knees were on opposite sides of his shoulders.

 

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” Bellamy murmurs, his hands ghosting up her thighs and smoothing over her stomach. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect that it hurts me to look at you sometimes.”

 

Their position is so intimate, and Clarke feels so exposed as she bares her body to him. Before their conversation earlier, she would have turned and fled at the idea of doing this with the way she thought her body looked. But his words, coupled with his adoring gaze, sends a surge of confidence through her.

 

“I miss feeling your mouth on me,” Clarke says, running a hand through his hair. “I want you to make me come with your tongue.”

 

Bellamy grins wolfishly, slipping a finger through her folds to find her already soaked. He presses down on her clit, making her gasp and rock towards his face. “Yeah? You miss my mouth on your sweet pussy?”

 

“I do,” Clarke whines. “I want it so bad.”

 

“I’ll give it to you, baby, don’t worry. Come here. Come sit on my face, sexy thing. I’m going to make you fucking scream.”

 

His hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise, guiding her down until he can press his lips to her slit. She breathes a sigh of relief when his tongue flicks at her clit, but it soon turns into a needy moan when it captures it between his lips and worries it with his tongue.

 

“Oh, _fuck_.”

 

Clarke is wound so tight she can feel her orgasm approaching already. Bellamy has his right arm wrapped around her lower back so that his hand is splayed across her stomach, keeping her steady. The other hand takes over rubbing her clit when he starts to fuck into her with his tongue, moaning as he tastes her heady arousal.

 

Reach behind her with a shaking hand, Clarke grips his cock, making him thrust into her palm with a surprised grunt. He removes his mouth from her cunt, but his fingers double their efforts.

 

“You’re close, Clarke, I can feel it. Let go for me.” He playfully bites the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she squeezes his cock in response. “ _Fuck_. Let me taste your cum, baby. I want it all over my mouth.”

 

“Yeah, you’re gonna make me come,” she pants, grinding down on his face. “Just like that, Bell. _Holy shit, yes, just like that_.”

 

His tongue licks into her just right, and right when she starts to feel the first waves of her orgasm, he fucking _growls_ against her cunt, and the added vibrations send her just over the edge. She comes with a strangled cry, and he holds her steady over him as she shakes, licking up everything she gives him.

 

Clarke collapses back onto the pillows, her heart beating wildly and a sated smirk on her face.

 

“How do you feel?” Bellamy murmurs into her collarbone before kissing a wet path up her throat. She winds her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a languid kiss and moaning when she tastes herself on his tongue.

 

“I feel _so hot_ ,” Clarke admits, and she does. Riding his face like that, seeing the hunger in his eyes as he looked up at her… it’s going to be all she thinks about for a while.

 

“You _are_ so hot,” Bellamy says, pushing himself up on his elbows so that he’s hovering over her. “Watching you ride my face like that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

Clarke grins, reaching down to grip his cock. His breath hitches and she licks her lips.

 

“Your turn.”

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully this helps ease the ache of 3x07. if not, come cry with me on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


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